


Holidate - noun, a date for a holiday

by plutosrose



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artist Steve Rogers, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Blood and Injury in Chapter 7, Christmas, Easter, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Falling In Love, Fourth of July, Gay Bucky Barnes, Halloween, Holidate AU, Hookups, Idiots in Love, Jealousy, M/M, Matchmaking, Minor Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Minor Sharon Carter/Natasha Romanov, Minor Sharon Carter/Steve Rogers, Mostly Bucky's POV, New Year's Eve, Overbearing Moms, POV Alternating, Past James "Bucky" Barnes/Brock Rumlow - Freeform, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, St. Patrick's Day, Thanksgiving, Valentine's Day, Weddings, Writer Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:33:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28060014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plutosrose/pseuds/plutosrose
Summary: After Brock dumps him right before Christmas, Bucky seeks a solution to his holiday woes.A Marvel/Holidate AU
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Alpine, James "Bucky" Barnes & Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson
Comments: 80
Kudos: 139





	1. Christmas

Bucky took one last, long drag from his cigarette before he stomped it out under his boot. He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. It was time to face the music.

Except, right before he was able to open the door, Becca opened it, narrowing her eyes at him.

“You smell like an ashtray. You said you quit smoking.”

She had him there. Bucky shrugged. “Brock dumped me.” 

Becca didn’t hesitate, enveloping Bucky in a hug that smelled strongly of sugar and vanilla. 

“He was an asshole and doesn’t deserve you,” she said firmly, before she wrinkled her nose. Bucky was pretty sure that she did it subconsciously, only when she was asking a difficult question. And when he smelled like an ashtray full of old cigarette butts that had been lit on fire. 

“Did you tell mom yet?”

Bucky made a face.

“I’m going to take that as a ‘no’,” Becca rolled her eyes as she wiped her hands off on her apron. 

“Don’t give me that look, you know how she gets.” 

From the raised eyebrow that Becca was giving him, it was clear that she didn’t seem to know how their mom got. Then again, he wasn’t sure why she would, or really, any of his sisters--Becca had been married since she’d graduated college and had two kids, Janey had a serious girlfriend, and Lily had gotten married a year ago. 

“We all just want you to be happy,” Becca said finally, which made him roll his eyes as he pushed past her. His sisters ‘just wanting him to be happy’ had seen him go on more crappy blind dates than he wanted to think about, including with Grant Ward, who had worked at the same veterinary clinic as Lily until he’d been arrested for arson. Yeah. Arson. His sister had set him up with an arsonist. He was never letting that one go. 

“I’m sorry I’m twenty-nine and single,” he shrugged, and yeah, maybe he shouldn’t have been quite so pointed about it, because breaking up with Brock really had, actually sucked a lot. Maybe he’d even imagined a future with him that, as of a week ago, had all gone up in flames. Both figuratively, and also literally, when he’d methodically fed every single thing that Brock had ever given him into the fireplace in his apartment.

So maybe he was upset, but now, he was feeling a little defensive. Once he got into the vodka that Natasha was likely already drinking in the kitchen, he would probably feel less defensive. 

Becca put up her hands in defense, before her son Nathaniel ran past, shooting his sister Charlotte with a nerf gun. “Nathaniel, what did I tell you about shooting your sister?!” which Bucky took to be an escape route from the conversation. 

Natasha was in the kitchen, nursing a bottle of vodka as predicted, while his mother flitted between the roast in the oven, and the salad that she was in the middle of preparing. She’d been spending Christmases with them since they were in college, claiming that flying back to Russia was too expensive. Now Bucky wasn’t sure why she didn’t go back--sometimes he honestly suspected that she was either a secret agent or on the run from the Russian government. 

He reached over to snatch the bottle out of her hands and took a long swig from it.

“At least use a glass or something,” Winnie muttered to herself, shaking her head as she tossed greens in the salad bowl. Natasha shrugged. “Is Brock running late?” 

Natasha looked over at him expectantly. Bucky made a face and sighed. It wasn’t like he could pretend that Brock was going to show up, though he had definitely thought about it for a few seconds. 

“Brock’s not coming.”

Winnie’s face fell immediately, and she wrapped her arms around him. “Oh honey, I’m so sorry. What happened?”

Bucky waved a hand. “It’s fine. It’s no big deal.”

“He was fucking one of the interns from the finance department,” Natasha said, unhelpfully. Bucky glared at her, and Winnie made a face.

“Oh,” she started, but Bucky shook his head. 

“It’s fine, I’m fine, everyone’s fine. Don’t want to talk about it.” 

Winnie pursed her lips together and nodded. “Okay, honey. Okay.” Bucky eyed her suspiciously as she started bringing bowls of food over to the dining room table.

“You didn’t have to tell her what happened.” Bucky grumbled, pressing his head against his forearms. “And how come she never gives you this much grief?” 

“Yes I did, because you know if she didn’t know, she’d be pushing you to get back together with him,” Natasha pointed out, and maybe there was a kernel of truth there. His sisters were all in serious relationships, and meanwhile, Brock had been the one really serious relationship that he’d had since college.

Fuck, that was a sad thought. 

“And she doesn’t bother me because I come prepared to these things,” Natasha said, gesturing to the man who was sitting at the dinner table. Bucky blinked - he hadn’t noticed him before - he looked back over at the vodka bottle and absently wondered if he’d already lost track of the amount he’d been drinking. The man was burly, with short, cropped hair, and looked vaguely lost. 

“Has he been there the whole time?” Bucky asked, and Natasha snorted. “It’s not my fault that you’re about as observant as…”

And here she trailed off, and said something in Russian, which made him narrow his eyes at her. “I don’t know what that means, but I’m insulted.” 

“You would know what it meant if you hadn’t changed majors sophomore year so you could have more time to suck your bio partner’s dick.” 

Bucky choked on vodka. “That was one time.” 

“Not from what I heard.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Bucky grumbled, reaching again for the bottle. Natasha rolled her eyes. 

“Anyway, I met him at my taekwondo studio. He doesn’t speak very good English. Mostly just French,” Natasha supplied, “But he’s my holidate.”

“Holidate,” Bucky blinked.

“Yeah, date for a holiday,” Natasha scoffed, taking another sip of vodka. He wasn’t sure how she downed it so easily - most days, she was able to drink him completely under the table, despite only being about five foot one. He was already feeling a little bit buzzed. 

“Date for a holiday,” Bucky said slowly, and suddenly it was such an obvious idea that he felt a little frustrated that he hadn't found someone for himself. This was the way that he could get his mom off his back, could get his sisters to stop looking at him with such pity in their eyes. “You’re brilliant.”

“I know, but you could tell me more often,” Natasha quipped, grinning. He snorted and shoved her playfully. 

-

Steve had just finished having the worst Christmas of his life. He was standing outside Lorraine’s parents’ house in Queens, scrubbing a hand over his face as he frantically dialed Sam’s number over and over and over. 

When Sam finally picked up, he breathed a sigh of relief. “Lorraine’s nuts!”

“Yeah, we all knew that,” Sam snorted, which made Steve grumble. 

“You could have told me.”

“I told you like seven times before you went out on a date with her. It’s not my fault you don’t have common sense, Steven.” Now that he thought back on it, he did remember Sam saying words about Lorraine, but how was he supposed to know that those were different from the rest of the words that he said every other day?!

“She told her parents that we were engaged! We’ve been on like three dates!” And here he was, wearing a matching fucking Christmas sweater. God. He felt like such an idiot. 

“Well you did go to her parents’ house for Christmas. Who does that when they haven’t been dating for very long?”

Steve let out a very long and very exasperated sigh. “I didn’t know that there were rules to this kind of thing.”

“Which is your problem with literally everything. It’s a good thing you have me, because otherwise you would be completely hopeless. You guys would probably be eloping over New Year’s,” Sam laughed, which made Steve grumble again.

“Okay fine, not a laughing matter. You want to swing by my mom’s house? She would probably let you take the guest room.”

Steve paused for a moment and nodded. “Yeah, I...yeah, I think that sounds like a good idea. Jesus Christ, Sam, I--”

“If you are about to tell me about how you didn’t notice that she was crazy because the sex was so good, I’m gonna need you to back up right now.”

Steve let out a laugh and shook his head. “Okay, okay, I get your point. I’ll see you in thirty.”

Fucking hell, he was never mixing romance and the holidays ever again.


	2. New Year's Eve

“Veronica, you make me the happiest woman alive--will you do the honor of becoming my wife?”

Yeah, Janey literally pulled out a giant diamond ring in the middle of Boxing Day Pancake Breakfast, which had been a tradition in the Barnes household for years, even before their father had passed away. 

So now instead of ingesting carbohydrates until he couldn’t stand upright anymore, he had to look at Janey and Veronica, who were just smiling stupidly at each other, while Winnie went to get the champagne that she’d surreptitiously hidden in the back of the fridge. 

Bucky looked between Becca, who was wiping syrup off of Nathaniel’s face, to Janey and Veronica, who were both holding hands and whispering to each other, to Lily and Jonathan, who had just kissed her on the cheek and sat down. 

It all made Bucky want to bang his head against the table, if he was being completely honest. 

“Do you have any plans for today?” 

It took him a few seconds to realize that Winnie had asked him a question. 

“Uh, I was going to go to the mall,” Bucky told his pancakes, stabbing them with the end of his fork. “The sweater that Janey and Veronica got me isn’t going to fit.” 

It also looked exactly like one he had purchased for Alpine, and on some level, he was fairly certain that his family knew this, and was trying to make some kind of statement about him being Perpetually Single. 

“You know,” Winnie said gently, in a tone of voice that told him that she was about to Suggest Something. “There’s this doctor that moved in next door recently.”

“I--”

“He’s really nice, and he’s pretty funny too.”

Oh no.

“He’s available for coffee later today, if you want to meet him.”

Oh no.

“He’s even read your books, he thinks they’re really good.”

Which meant that he had literally, never, in his entire life, opened one of his books.

And listen, he did okay as an author. Most people didn’t. He made enough money off of advances and contracts that he was able to afford a one bedroom for himself and literally anything and everything that could possibly make Alpine happy. But every time his mother tried to say whatever new gentleman she had for him had read his books, it usually led to a lot of embarrassing half-answers on a date that already had no chemistry until they finally admitted that they’d googled his name ten minutes before the date had started.

Yeah, thanks a lot Jack. 

He looked over to Becca, who was now helping Charlotte with breakfast with the kind of concentration that people used to win Nobel Peace Prizes. She was going to be no help.

Janey and Veronica were being lovey-dovey and shit still, also no help.

Lily and Jonathan were in the middle of a conversation about canine overpopulation that he was pretty sure that they’d started only so that they would be ignored.

And Natasha, who had slid into the seat next to him like some sort of ninja cat burglar, was going to be no help because she enjoyed his suffering. 

Bucky grumbled.

“I’m going to be busy all day, so I don’t think I’m going to be able to meet anyone for coffee,” Bucky managed a smile.

“I thought we were going to lunch later,” Natasha said, because she was literally the most unhelpful person to ever live. Bucky made a point of stepping on her foot, which was always a dangerous game to play with someone who was just as comfortable wearing stilettos as she was wearing tennis shoes.

“Tomorrow, we’re going to lunch tomorrow,” Bucky gritted his teeth. “And then I have a deadline. Nick’s really insistent that I finish my draft. No extensions. No time for coffee.”

The smile on Natasha’s face was really making him regret ever having sat next to her in Russian Lit ten years ago. 

Winnie looked equal parts concerned and pensive. “Okay, well, I will tell him that I’ll let him know when you’re free.”

So the way that Bucky saw it, he needed to make sure that he was busy for the rest of his life. Either that, or move to somewhere remote, like Siberia. Or maybe become a scientist and move to Antarctica and never see his family ever again. That happened in real life, right?   
“I’m going to be inviting him over for New Year’s,” Winnie added, because there was no way that this nightmare would ever end. 

Bucky’s eyes went wide, and he knew that he was this close to getting set-up, because if there was one thing that he knew, deep down in his heart, it was that Winifred Barnes absolutely could smell fear a mile away.

“I have a date, actually. On New Year’s Eve,” Bucky told his pancakes again, because they wouldn’t judge him for lying. From the way that Natasha’s gaze was boring into the side of his head, he was pretty sure that she could tell. Probably because she was the one who had told him about holidates in the first place.

He rubbed his temples as his head throbbed. Jesus Christ, how much vodka had he had yesterday? 

“You do?” Becca asked.

“Yes Becca,” he smiled sharply. “I do. Going to be extremely busy, so I don’t think I’m going to make it. Anyway, I have to go to the mall now, post-Christmas crowds returning everything, you know how it is. Gotta leave early if you’re ever going to find a parking spot.” 

Bucky picked up his plate, and Natasha’s, if only to prove a point, and swept into the kitchen. Hell, maybe if he got to the mall soon he’d be able to find one of these magical holidates and actually be busy on New Year’s Eve. 

-

“Sir, you don’t have the receipt, so I can’t accept a return,” the clerk said to the man two people in front of him in line. 

“Can’t you just check your computer or something?”

Steve let out a sigh and checked his watch. The Christmas sweater that Lorraine’s family had purchased for him was a heavy weight in his shopping bag. It was the last thing that he needed to do before he ever saw her again--maybe she’d even start working somewhere else if he hoped hard enough. 

“I’m sorry, there doesn’t seem to be anything that I can do. I can ask my manager about store credit, if that’s possible?”

“Can you ask your manager to just do the damn return? You don’t even have to give me my money back, I just don’t want this fucking sweater anymore.” 

“Sir,” said the woman in front of him, in a way that barely disguised her own impatience. “Just take the store credit. I’m sure I speak for everyone when I say that we all have places we’d rather be than standing in this line.” 

“That’s up to him,” Steve said before he could stop himself, because as Sam had pointed out the night before over mulled wine and a plate of Darlene’s Christmas cookies, he _literally could never stop himself._ “You just can’t try to make a line go faster.” 

The man gave him an uncertain look, and then gave him a curt nod of acknowledgement. “Yeah, I get to decide what to do with this,” he said, brandishing a cream-colored sweater in front of her. 

The woman gave them both a thoroughly unimpressed look. Steve was almost confident that he heard her mutter something under her breath about ‘dramatic assholes in the middle of a J. Crew,’ but as Sam would no doubt remind him, sometimes he was determined to hear what he wanted when he was looking for a fight. 

“Here,” Steve stepped up to the counter. “Include it with my return if you don’t want the store credit. Wouldn’t want you to have to spend the rest of the holidays trying to get rid of a sweater you don’t want.” 

“You really don’t have to do that,” the man said, blinking at him with giant eyes. Steve’s gaze flicked down to his lips for a second, distracted momentarily, before he shrugged. 

“Not a big deal.” He placed the return on the counter alongside the other sweater, noting the way that the man’s lips curved into a grin when he noticed the full extent of the Christmas monstrosity that he was dealing with (“It looks like Santa vomited on this,” Sam had said, which had made Darlene swat him as she burst into giggles.)

Once he’d collected his receipts, he turned and started to head out of the store, only for the man-without-a-receipt to skid to a halt directly in front of him. “I’m Bucky, and this might seem kind of weird, but I thought I’d ask anyway. Do you want to be my date for New Year’s Eve?” 

-

“What?”

Natasha had found her holidate at her taekwondo studio, and there were no rules saying that he couldn’t find one at the mall, especially since this guy had already handled his stupid Christmas sweater return for him. 

But with the man blinking back at him, he suddenly felt like he’d made a huge mistake, and was imagining spending the rest of his life with his mom’s mysterious doctor friend. 

Handles-store-returns-man sighed and rubbed the back of his head. Bucky thought it was a little cute. “I mean, I’m not really looking--”

“Oh--I’m not either,” Bucky said suddenly, feeling a little bit more confident that handles-store-returns-man hadn’t straight up bolted from the conversation. “I guess I’m more suggesting something that would be...beneficial for both of us. Just so we don’t have to be alone on New Year’s.” 

He made sure to clarify so that handles-stores-returns-man wouldn’t think he was some kind of sex weirdo that lived in the mall.

He pursed his lips before he held out his hand, which struck Bucky as a somewhat backwards way to do things - he’d effectively asked him out already. 

Well not really. But same difference. 

“Steve.” Bucky was 90% sure that he held onto his hand too long before he let go. 

“So um,” Bucky reached for a felt tip pen behind his ear. He liked to write down ideas in a notebook and keep a pen close by, sue him. “Here’s my number.” 

He uncapped it and wrote it on Steve’s hand, doing his best to tamp down the thrill of a potential date, especially, as he tried to remind himself, this _wasn’t_ an actual date. This was just a way to get his family off his back until he could start making more excuses about his publisher. 

“You could have just told me your number and I could have put it in my phone,” Steve pointed out, blinking down at the string of digits on his hand. 

“Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” Bucky couldn’t stop the smirk from spreading across his face. Maybe this was a bad idea, but there was no way that it could be Brock Rumlow-levels of bad. 

Probably not, at least. Brock had never helped him with a store return, at least. 

~

Surprisingly enough, five days later, he was sitting in a booth at a club that had a way too expensive cover charge for a New Year’s Eve party. It wasn’t like they were anywhere near Times Square, so he didn’t know where they got off on charging that kind of price. No New Yorker would be caught dead there.

And yeah, Steve was there too (he had to admit, at least to himself, that this was the biggest surprise of all, that Steve hadn’t just thought that he was some fucking weirdo at the mall), perfect fluffy blond hair and bright smile and nursing a beer, and Bucky didn’t like him even a little bit, because he wasn’t in this for a relationship, he was here because it meant that he’d escaped an awkward New Year’s Eve at his mother’s where she invited over the latest man she’d met that was attracted to other men. 

Bucky had already had two mojitos (it was a lot to very likely that he had downed the first one entirely too fast, just relieved to be out of the cold and in the club), and was feeling pleasantly warm and buzzy. 

“So, what do you do?” Bucky shouted over the music. 

“You know, we don’t have to do the whole ‘date get to know you thing’,” Steve supplied, and maybe he had a point. Bucky took a sip of his mojito just to be extra sure.

“Yeah, we don’t,” Bucky shrugged. “But is it some kind of secret? Are you some kind of secret agent or something? An arsonist? My sister set me up with an arsonist once.” 

Steve laughed, and Bucky reminded himself that this was very much not a date and it didn’t matter if Steve’s laugh made him all shivery or anything. “Are you serious? Oh my God, I’m so sorry Buck.”

Steve reached out and touched his arm and Bucky just looked down at his hand, wide-eyed. “Yeah, poor me. It’s fine, I mean, it’s not like we went out that long before he went to prison.”

A look that was very much not amusement crossed Steve’s face. Bucky tried to do his best not to focus on it. 

“If it makes you feel better, the last person I went out with told her parents we were engaged. We’d only been on three dates.” 

Bucky squinted at him. “You strike me as someone who wouldn’t know that only people in serious relationships go to a parents’ house for a holiday.”

“Okay,” Steve leaned forward, pointing at him. “That is not a rule.”

“It so is!” Bucky laughed. “Oh my God, and you even dress like someone who’s about to propose, no wonder she thought you guys were engaged.” It was true, Steve was wearing a navy blue polo like some fucker who was about to propose to their girlfriend at their dad’s yacht club. 

“What the hell does that even mean? I’m pretty sure that you actually have to propose to dress like someone proposing,” Steve said, just petulant enough that Bucky started giggling and couldn’t stop.

“Anyway, one of my friends told me the same thing.”

“They sound like they’re smart.”

“Yeah, he is.”

And Steve looked so fond for a moment that Bucky almost felt jealous of this random smart friend that Steve had. Except, there was the fact that Steve was looking directly at him, and not into his beer or at the ceiling or at any one of the gorgeous drunk people that were currently on the dance floor. 

It made Bucky squirm a little in his seat, hoping that he could pass it off as just being fidgety if Steve asked. Of course, he didn’t ask, which made Bucky feel even more fidgety about the fact that he’d thought through a strategy like that in the first place. 

He was doing great at this not-having-feelings thing. 

“I uh, am glad you have smart friends, you seem like you need it if you’re spending Boxing Day helping strangers do returns at J. Crew,” Bucky offered, which made Steve burst out laughing again. Bucky immediately got to his feet.

“I’ll be right back.” 

He took the longest way he could find to the bathroom to try and get his heart to stop racing. 

On the way back from the bathroom, Bucky ran into Natasha, who was keeping her eye on an older-looking man who was ordering at the bar. 

“Bucky! Where’s this mysterious date?” Natasha arched one perfect eyebrow, almost like she was waiting for him to admit that his date wasn’t real.

He rolled his eyes and pointed to where Steve was still sitting, drinking his beer. 

“He’s cute,” Natasha said as she followed Bucky’s line of sight. “You sure you don’t want to actually date him?”

Bucky scoffed, getting his second wind on this no-feelings-thing. “Holidate, remember, this was your idea. And it’s brilliant, by the way. Just so you know.” 

Natasha raised her glass, and Bucky laughed. He turned to walk back through the crowd and had almost made his way all the way back to Steve when a girl knocked into him, spilling red wine all down the front of an incredibly awesome vintage t-shirt for a band that Bucky was pretty sure only he had ever heard of. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” she blurted out, spluttering apologies about bringing over paper towels until one of her friends came out of the thick of the crowd and dragged her away. 

Bucky had been standing stock still for approximately ten seconds before Steve stood up and put a hand on his shoulder. 

“It’s fine, Buck, let’s trade,” Steve said so seriously that Bucky burst out laughing. Both because he was already a little buzzed (being best friends with a Russian, surprisingly, had done nothing for his alcohol tolerance), and because Steve looked so serious that it was almost funny. He was practically a stranger, and yet, he seemed oddly invested in changing shirts. 

Bucky took a deep breath. “Okay,” he nodded, and a few minutes later, he was wearing the least cool shirt that he’d ever seen in his life, and Steve was wearing an awesome, vintage shirt that was at least two sizes too small for him.

But somehow it didn’t really feel like it mattered in between two more mojitos and loud, ecstatic, and probably cringey dancing (Steve really hadn’t been kidding when he said he couldn’t dance) as the clock on the screen counted down from 10 to midnight. 

And yeah, it might have been the best New Year’s Eve of his entire life, including the one where Brock said “I love you” like a lying liar who lies. 

An amazing New Year’s Eve with an incredibly attractive man who was just his type, who was sweet and funny.

Yeah, no feelings? Not a problem.


	3. Valentine's Day

Bucky didn’t hear from Steve after New Year’s--which was just as well. He had a deadline coming up, and Nick was ruthlessly punctual about them. If he wanted a full draft by February 15, he meant February 15, no extensions. Even if he was in the middle of the arctic and had no WiFi, Nick would probably still find a way to contact him and ask where the hell his pages were. 

He was in the middle of writing an email to Nick, assuring him that the pages would be in on time, when Alpine popped up and sat on the keyboard. Now, Alpine was an incredibly smart cat, and she really only did this when Winnie was about to call him over FaceTime. 

Grumbling to himself, he accepted the call. 

“Is everything okay? I’m on a deadline. I have to write about twenty more pages today.” Usually heading his mom off with a conversation about work stopped her from trying to seize literally every second imaginable to try and play matchmaker. 

“I just wanted to let you know that Clint is available next week for coffee.”

“Oh, so he’s Clint now?”

Winnie shrugged. “He’s a nice young man,” which made Bucky roll his eyes, because it wasn’t like Winnie was old enough to be calling someone who was probably in their 30s a ‘nice young man.’ “He saw me come back from the supermarket yesterday and helped me carry in my groceries.”

“You know, you could date him if you wanted,” Bucky pointed out, which made Winnie wave off the idea. 

“No, I’m fine. I just want all my children to be happy.” 

Which apparently included a suspiciously timed coffee date. 

Bucky shook his head and let out a sigh. “It’s the week before Valentine’s Day.”

“I am just trying to help,” Winnie replied, sounding equally exasperated. “It sounded like Brock really hurt you, and you haven’t been seeing anyone else since. I don’t want you to be alone on Valentine’s Day. 

“I had a date on New Year’s Eve. It’s not like Valentine’s Day is any different,” Bucky shot back. “I’m not having this conversation when I’m supposed to be working.” 

Alpine meowed indignantly, almost as if she was trying to remind him that he was the one who had picked up the call in the first place. He absolutely couldn’t stand how smart she was sometimes. 

“Just please think about it, okay,” Winnie pleaded, and he really hated that she was phrasing a question as a statement. He did the same thing when he was trying to convince someone to do what he wanted. Stupid genetics.

“Okay,” he huffed. “I’ll think about it.” 

“Okay,” Winnie smiled back, and Bucky hung up on her before she could think to ask something else, like if she could give Clint his phone number.

Then again, Winnie probably had already given him his phone number. 

Seized with the sudden impulse to double check, he unlocked his phone and scrolled through the most recent messages. When he got to Steve though, he frowned, his thumb hovering over the message history, which ended on January 1.

Well, he could text him, he thought, but wouldn’t that just seem desperate? It wasn’t like he could ask Steve out on a date because it was February 7, now could he? 

Plus, it would defeat the whole blasé thing he had going for him, and he was beginning to really like telling people that he preferred being single. 

-

He had finally, on February 13, finished the draft of his manuscript that Nick wanted. He took time to pat himself on the back for finishing it two whole days early, and immediately headed to the mall to reward himself.

Which, the moment that he got there, he couldn’t help but wonder if it had been a terrible idea. Maybe he should have stuck to the bakery on his block that only sold quiche and empanadas and the one stray scone for his reward, and not a box of chocolates, because the entire mall was full of pink and red and hearts and glitter and lovey-dovey bullshit that made him want to throw up in his mouth a little. 

Hallmark tended to leave out the fact that sometimes boyfriends lie about loving you and are just trying to distract you from seeing the nudes that a 20-year-old just sent him on his phone. 

Bucky wrinkled his nose. Brock couldn’t be any more gross, honestly. 

Well he could be, and he was. 

But it wasn’t worth dwelling on, because it wasn’t like Brock was standing in front of him with his arm around a girl with dark brown hair in the middle of a Godiva.

Oh.

He was. 

“Brock!” he forced himself to smile as wide as he could, and to not focus on the fact that he’d been wearing the same NYU sweatshirt for the past three days. He really had to stop procrastinating on his laundry for this exact reason. 

He’d spent so much time imagining this exact moment, that now that he was faced with it, he honestly didn’t know what he was supposed to say. His mouth felt incredibly dry. Brock smiled back at him, which somehow just made him feel worse about himself. 

“James,” because he never called him Bucky, ever, because he was an asshole, “This is Dottie. Dottie, James.” 

“It’s nice to meet you, James.” Dottie was incredibly pretty, with wavy dark brown hair and delicate features, and of course Bucky couldn’t think about that, he could only think about the naked picture that he briefly saw flash across Brock’s phone. 

When she held out her hand, he noticed that she was wearing a diamond ring, because of course, of course she was.

Bucky choked. “You’re engaged?”

“Yeah, can you believe it?” Brock smiled, and pecked Dottie on the cheek. Gross. 

“I really can’t,” Bucky said tightly.

“So what about you, anyone special?”

Bucky was about to stammer through an answer - it wasn’t like he spent time with Brock or his friends anymore. He could make someone up and Brock would never know. Except, the moment that he opened his mouth, Steve came barrelling out of nowhere. 

“We’ve been dating for almost two months now, right?” Steve asked, wrapping his arm around Bucky’s shoulders in a gesture that felt so protective and affectionate that Bucky wanted to melt into the floor. 

“Yeah, that’s right, since Christmas, right?” he smiled brightly up at Steve, and Steve, for his part, showed no indication that any of this was fake. 

“Yeah, since Christmas.” 

“Oh wow,” Dottie smiled. “Are you guys serious?”

Bucky felt like all the wind had gotten knocked out of him when Steve pulled him in close. “Oh, I hope so,” Steve beamed, and Bucky was definitely wishing that he could have just melted straight into the floor. 

“Wow,” Brock said finally, “Well, I’m glad that you found someone, James.” 

And between Brock looking like he’d been caught off guard, and Steve holding him tight against his side, Bucky was pretty sure that he could have died happy. 

“Well, we have a lot of shopping to do,” Steve said, before he pulled Bucky straight out of the store.

Once they were far enough away from the store, Bucky pulled hard on Steve’s sleeve. “What the hell was that?” he hissed.

Steve shrugged. “You looked like you needed help.”

“Is that what you do then? Just help random single people at the mall?”

Steve smiled and shrugged again. “Guess I just like helping people.” 

God, sometimes Bucky really despised him. You know, in all two, now three, interactions that they’d had together. 

Bucky blinked and held up the box of chocolates in his hands. “I think you just helped me shoplift.” 

For a split second, Steve looked horrified, before he burst out laughing and pulled Bucky along. “I’ll go back and explain.” 

“Let’s just sit for a little bit,” Bucky pulled Steve to a bench with him. “I want to make sure that Brock is gone.” 

Steve folded his hands, but his lip kept twitching.

“You want to say something, so say it.” 

“What did he do?”

Bucky glared at him for a few seconds, until he looked Steve in the eye and noticed that...he looked almost angry? No, he couldn’t be reading that right, right?

“Fucked an intern in his department,” Bucky shrugged, and yeah, now Steve looked positively indignant, eyebrows drawn together and fingers flexing like he was looking for a fight. 

“It’s fine, though,” Bucky said quickly. “I just didn’t expect to see him.” He chewed his lip, stomach twisting uncomfortably with the need to put Brock completely out of mind. 

“So what were you doing at the mall?”

“I’ve been freelancing a little,” Steve shrugged. “Doing some murals for some of the shops here.” 

“So you’re an artist,” Bucky said, popping two of the chocolates into his mouth - both coconut, yikes. Well, it wasn’t like he could turn back now. “Anything I’d recognize? Other than a snowman outside of the Anthropologie upstairs.”

Steve made a face at him talking with his mouth full, and then reached between them and tapped the box of chocolates. 

“I don’t know whether to be impressed or offended that you think I buy these that often,” Bucky murmured, but Steve, stupid Steve, was just smiling broadly like Bucky hadn’t just accused him of offending him. 

“What about you?”

It took Bucky a solid thirty seconds to remember that Steve was talking to him. He swallowed the chocolates, and shrugged. “I write.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Anything I would have read?”

Bucky shook his head. “Probably not.” Talking about his books would make him like Steve too much. Instead, he went with the next best option--changing the subject as quickly as he possibly could. 

“You want to do something tomorrow?” Bucky asked, stuffing another chocolate in his mouth just so he’d have an excuse to take his time responding to Steve’s probable rejection. There was no way that Steve had spent the last few weeks single, right?

“Yeah,” Steve smiled back. “I think that sounds fun. Sam keeps trying to set me up with a friend of his, and normally I trust his judgment, but...not before Valentine's Day, for sure.” 

Bucky’s stomach swooped uncomfortably at the idea of Steve going out on a date with someone. He did his best to ignore it. 

“Yeah, okay, it’s a date then.” His heart thudded in his chest. “Or, not a date. You know, like New Year’s Eve definitely wasn’t a date.” 

He was so good at this. 

Steve smiled at him again, and this time the swoopy feeling was much less unpleasant. “Right. I’m looking forward to it.” 

He was so bad at this. 

(Which was only confirmed the next day when he got whipped cream from his hot chocolate on his nose and Steve laughed and booped him on the nose).

Damnit.


	4. St. Patrick's Day

“He’s literally the most confusing person on the entire planet, Sam,” Steve grumbled, and Sam let out a sigh as he reached up to do another chest press. He should have been paying more attention to Sam, but Bucky had been on his mind since Valentine’s Day and showed no signs of disappearing from his brain any time soon. “Sometimes, I think he’s about to admit that we are actually going on dates, and then he comes off of it and pretends like nothing happened. Did I tell you about what happened on Valentine’s Day?”

“Six times,” Sam grunted, bringing the weight back down.

Steve wrinkled his nose. It wasn’t his fault that he’d mentioned it so much - he’d just been parsing through the interaction so much that he was going to go crazy if he couldn’t tell anyone but himself about it.

He’d spotted Bucky looking incredibly uncomfortable talking to his ex-boyfriend and his ex-boyfriend’s fiancee. Then, Bucky had (almost) asked him out, before immediately clarifying that they were only going out so neither of them had to be alone on Valentine’s Day.

And then of course, on Valentine’s Day proper, Bucky had been smiling and laughing and at one point had gotten whipped cream on his nose, and Steve had reached out to boop him on the nose. 

And for a split second, he had really thought they were about to kiss, until Bucky had laughed, made some joke that he honestly didn’t remember because he was still processing the moment that had been ripped out from under them, and said something like, “Thank God, this isn’t a real date.”

“Thank God, this isn’t a real date, Sam! That’s what he said!”

“Yeah, I know that’s what he said, you texted me right after, then you called me, and then you told me again over lunch the next day,” Sam huffed as he reached up to do another rep. When he set the weight back down, he let out a long sigh and looked up at Steve.

“Do you want my advice?”

“Yes, of course.”

“You’re just saying that. But I’m going to give you my advice anyway. Either you figure out where he stands, or you move on and you go out with someone else. Actually go out with someone else, none of this weird shit on holidays. Because it is weird, Steve. Nobody does that.” 

Steve did, as it turned out. He hadn’t intended to let it get this far. Sure, after he’d gone out with Lorraine, he definitely hadn’t wanted to jump into a relationship, because there was no real way for him to be able to tell whether the person he was seeing thought they were engaged when they weren’t. But now, it was closing in on three months, and he hadn’t been on a single date with anyone since Lorraine. In fact, the closest thing that he had to a date were the holidays that he spent with Bucky, and as Bucky had reminded him at every turn, they weren’t _real_ dates. It was just a mutually beneficial arrangement that meant that neither of them had to be alone on the biggest and most overwhelming days of the year.

It just meant sitting across from one of the most gorgeous guys he’d ever met in a bar or a cafe, pretending like Bucky wasn’t going to be popping into his head later that night when he was alone in his bedroom. 

For example, he was pretty sure that the image of Bucky running his tongue across his lips was permanently burned into his brain. The first time he’d done it, drinking his mojitos at the club that they’d gone to on New Year’s Eve, he’d been a goner, and then the second time he’d done it, he’d been almost convinced that it was intentional. It was such a small gesture, something that might have been unnoticeable if you weren’t already predisposed to be looking straight at Bucky’s lips (which were quite full and plush and made him want to run his finger against them), but it had been all he could think about for three solid days.

Maybe Sam was right, he needed to go on an actual date. Or at the very least, he needed to get laid, because if Bucky didn’t want to be dating, then it probably wasn’t entirely right for him to be thinking about Bucky so much when he was jerking off.

And he did.

A lot.

It took Steve a while to realize just how long he’d paused, blinking when he realized that Sam had gotten up off the bench and was staring at him like he was seconds away from giving him a solid shake. “You alright?” Sam asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Steve nodded. “Just was thinking that I should probably take your advice.” 

Sam beamed and punched him lightly on the arm. “You really should. Every damn day, man.” 

Steve laughed and shoved him playfully.

-

Steve was in the middle of some concept designs for a client when his phone went off. He half-expected to see messages from Tony (and there were a _lot_ from him - Steve liked to talk to his clients about their ideas, but Tony possibly had the most, and his phone had been going off at 3:30 am for three straight days because Tony was up and wanted to talk about Stark Industries’ clean energy campaign), but instead, there was a message from Bucky.   
_**Bucky**_

_**hey are you free on st. patricks’** _

_**_**Bucky** _ ** _

_**_**could go to that new popup in chelsea** _ ** _

_**_**_**Bucky** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**dont have to though, no pressure.** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**Steve was about to respond when another message came through a few seconds later.** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**Bucky**_** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**not a date you know** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**Steve let out a sigh and leaned back in his chair. Of course it wasn’t a date. Bucky had been incredibly clear this entire time that he didn’t want to be dating. Maybe he should have told Bucky that he wanted something different now, but every time he got close to texting Bucky something like, ‘Could we go on an actual date?’ he always stopped himself. It was probably (definitely) a little selfish, but he liked spending time with Bucky, and he was afraid that time--as limited as it was--would go away when he admitted his feelings and Bucky inevitably rejected him.** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**His fingers hovered over their message history. If Sam were here, he would have reminded him that even though Bucky was gorgeous and funny, he really didn’t know very much about Bucky, and that seemed to have been an intentional choice on Bucky’s part. Of course, Steve hadn’t talked that much about himself either, sure, but he at least had talked about work. Bucky had waved off the question as quickly as possible. He would remind him that this was a crossroads, a chance to figure out what Bucky wanted, be clear about what he wanted, and move on if they didn’t want the same thing.** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**And of course, he ignored the advice that the Sam in his brain was giving him, and texted Bucky back within thirty seconds.** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**Me**_** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**Yeah sure, just let me know where & when** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**__ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**Bucky**_** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**Already told you where & when :P ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**Steve let out a shaky breath and ran a hand through his hair.** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**_**Steve**_** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**_**Smartass** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**Bucky**_** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**Please, you love it.** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**Steve bit back a whimper and looked down at his cock, which was rapidly getting hard, especially since it was getting impossible to stop himself from imagining Bucky licking his lips after everything he texted. “You’re really not helping.”** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**Me**_** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**You got me.** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**__ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**Bucky**_** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**:P** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**See u soon** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**Steve blinked down at the message. “What the hell does that mean?” He shook his head. On the one hand, it was probably positive that Bucky had maybe, sort of, been flirting with him, but what did :P mean in this context. Was he still flirting? Was he trying to let him down gently? Jesus Christ, this was so confusing.** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**St. Patrick’s Day was probably going to be even worse.** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**-** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**Turns out, yes, it was, because both of them were two drinks in before they’d hit the thirty minute mark at the pop-up, _The North_ , a blatant Game of Thrones rip-off concept that he was pretty certain was going to get someone sued.** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**“I saw your mural,” Bucky murmured, leaning in close like he was telling him a secret. This Bucky, flushed and giggly and happy, made a shiver run up his spine.** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**“You did? What did you think?” Steve choked out, taking another sip of beer.  
Bucky grinned. “You seem like you’re really,” and then Bucky hiccuped, and it was possibly the most adorable thing Steve had ever seen, which was how he really knew that he had it bad. “Really talented. Is that all you do? Paint murals on shop windows over Christmas?”** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**Steve laughed, and shook his head, thinking of the snowmen that lined the window outside the Anthropologie at the mall. He’d done a couple of other murals, some sleighs and Christmas trees, but it wasn’t what brought in the most amount of money.** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**“I work at an ad agency, mostly do concepts for corporate clients and their ad campaigns.” He didn’t realize that he was making a face until Bucky was making one back at him.** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**“You don’t like it.”** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**“Not really,” Steve shrugged. “But it pays the bills more than freelancing does right now. The murals are a little tacky, probably, but they’re fun. I like getting the chance to do something I’m good at and just...having fun, I guess.”** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**A slow smile spread across Bucky’s features. “I don’t think it was tacky. Besides, you could probably freelance all the time. Do whatever you want, because you have talent.”** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**Bucky hiccuped again, and Steve felt a blush creep up his neck. “Thanks, that means a lot.” And he knew that he was going to jealousy guard this tidbit of affection, which made him feel warm, happy, and guilty all at the same time.** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**“Hey, sorry, I know I shouldn’t ask this,” a waitress came by their table. “But, I went to the reading that you did last year of your book _Winter’s War_ , and it was just amazing. You don’t have to sign anything, but I just wanted to tell you I loved the book.” ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**Steve blinked at the waitress, who had sleek blonde hair, a round face, and long legs that were making it hard for him to concentrate. And then he blinked at Bucky, because _what_.** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**Bucky had turned bright red and mumbled out a thank you. He noticed the waitress giving him A Look before she walked over to another table.** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**“Is that what you meant when you said I probably wouldn’t have read your book?” Steve blinked again in surprise. “I’ve read that book three times. Last I saw it was in the process of getting optioned for a series.”** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**Bucky turned even redder and fidgeted with the stem of his glass. “It’s really not a big deal.”** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**“It is!” Steve brought his hand down on the table for emphasis. “Your characters are so rich and detailed and life-like and like...people. Like real people. The juxtaposition of the Soldier’s internal conflict to World War II and the Cold War...God, I’m rambling now. But you say I’m talented? You’re the one who’s talented, Buck. I can’t believe I didn’t realize JBB was you, goddamn.” JBB was notoriously private, and he’d never been able to go to a reading and actually meet him in person, and now he was kicking himself for not realizing the connection sooner.** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**A slow smile spread across Bucky’s features, and he reached out and put his hand on his arm, which made him feel pleasantly tingley. “My books are shit, but thank you for buying them so I can pay my rent.”** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**Steve barked out a laugh and held up his drink in a toast. “Hey, if you keep churning out books as good as that one, I’m happy to be your sugar daddy.”** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**Bucky snorted and swatted him playfully. He was almost certain that they were about to kiss again, before the waitress came back.** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**“Here are your drinks,” the waitress said, smiling brightly as she set them down.** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**Steve blinked and looked down at the piece of paper that had been slid underneath his beer glass. He looked back at the waitress, but by the time that he had, she’d already receded back into the crowd. He grinned to himself and pocketed the phone number.** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**He looked over at Bucky, who had raised an eyebrow. For a moment, he thought that Bucky was going to say something about the phone number, but the moment passed quickly--instead of saying anything, Bucky downed the rest of his martini (which was called a George R.R. Martini, which was possibly the worst thing that Steve had ever heard in his entire life) and slapped the table. “I’m going to get us shots.”** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**-** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**When Steve woke up, he was lying on a couch that he didn’t recognize.** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**He squinted up at the ceiling, wondering if his bedroom would come into focus. When it didn’t, he sat up and looked around and saw...Bucky, lying on the floor.** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**In his boxers. _His_ , as in _Steve’s_ own boxers. ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**Steve lifted the blanket around his waist and his eyes widened.** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**“What the fuck?!”** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**Bucky had just woken up, and was massaging his temples. “We didn’t...did we?”** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**“No, we definitely didn’t.” Bucky gave him a sharp look.** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**“How can you tell?!”** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**“How can you not?!”** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**Bucky squinted at him. “What are you implying?”** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**“Honestly Buck, I have a hell of a hangover, I’m not sure I could imply anything if I tried.”** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**Bucky’s expression softened. “Okay, don’t look.”** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**And Steve only had seconds before his boxers were being tossed back in his face. “You could have warned me or gone and changed in the bathroom or something.” When he grabbed the boxers off his face, he had turned beet red. Bucky only shrugged as he pulled his jeans back on.** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**Once Bucky was dressed, Steve wound the blanket around himself and shuffled off to the bathroom with his clothes.** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**When he returned, Bucky was sitting on the couch, looking straight ahead. “Okay, I think it’s good that nothing happened. Don’t want to complicate anything.”** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**Steve let out a breath and nodded. “Yeah. Who would want that?”** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _

_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**_**Fuck.** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _ ** _


	5. Easter

Bucky had been close to working his way up to texting Steve on a non-holiday day. After all, right before St. Patrick’s Day, Steve had almost seemed like he was flirting with him. He’d even read his books--he could count on one hand the number of guys he’d gone out with who knew his work. Let alone guys who thought that he was talented. Thinking about the way that Steve’s eyes had lit up at the mention of his books made him feel warm and fuzzy inside. 

And then they’d definitely come back to his place and...switched clothes? It was still unclear, and as hard as Bucky tried, he hadn’t been able to recover any real memories of the night after his fourth George R.R. Martini. Regardless, he couldn’t let himself get that close to Steve again - inevitably, it was just going to lead to disappointment. Steve hadn’t signed up to be his holidate to get a boyfriend. He’d been very clear from the beginning that he had no interest in a relationship, and the last thing that Bucky wanted to do was forcibly eject Steve from his life because he caught feelings.

So, Bucky had thrown himself into his work. His new book, _Summer Soldier_ had just come back full of revisions and notes from Nick, so he was going to be working on that for the next few weeks. Plus, there was a meeting with a couple of representatives from Netflix. Nick had told him to do all the talking during the meeting, (which was probably best, Nick could get blood from a stone just from sheer force of will), but he still had to prepare for that.

Alpine plopped herself down on his chest and meowed loudly. “Yeah, I know, I need to feed you, it’s breakfast time now,” he murmured, fiddling with his phone and pulling up his message history with Steve, before she punched his arm.

“Ow!” 

Alpine just meowed happily like she hadn’t done anything, but of course she knew. She was too smart not to. She was literally giving him ‘I think you’re making a bad decision’ eyes. 

Easter was coming up, and Easter, just like Thanksgiving and Christmas at the Barnes household, was serious business. There would be an easter egg hunt for Nathaniel and Charlotte, and his sisters and their spouses and soon-to-be spouses would probably show up, being all lovey-dovey while they brought over a metric ton of cookies shaped like eggs and bunnies all covered in colorful icing, while he would just be the sad, single uncle who put sweaters on his cat.

And he wouldn’t even have Natasha there to support them, since Natasha had been banned from Easter after hiding the eggs so well that the hunt had lasted a solid sixteen hours. 

“Ugh,” he grumbled. “I have to text Steve, I’m doing it.” 

Easter was definitely a family holiday, arguably (or maybe definitely, now that Bucky was actually thinking about it) more serious than New Year’s Eve or Valentine’s Day. Jonathan had even proposed to Lily two years ago on Easter (and now that he thought of _that_ he wondered why his sisters couldn’t get engaged in front of a mountain or a waterfall like normal people). 

Alpine meowed indignantly from her position on his chest. ‘Yeah, I know you think it’s a bad idea, but I’m doing it anyway.”

Come to think of it, he wasn’t entirely sure if Steve would have Easter plans or not. Steve had never mentioned any siblings, and on the few times that he’d mentioned his mom, he’d gotten a faraway look in his eyes and then changed the subject. He could live with Steve saying that he had plans with family. He wasn’t that desperate.

Alpine meowed in disagreement and Bucky narrowed her eyes at her. “You’re a real asshole, you know that?” he squinted, but his expression softened almost immediately, because it was literally impossible for him to stay mad at Alpine, even when she sat on him, punched him, and pointed out that he was making poor life choices.

_**Me** _

Not sure if you had plans for easter  
But my mom told me I could invite someone  
No pressure 

He immediately flipped his phone over and buried his face in a pillow, waiting for Steve’s response. 

Normally, Steve responded pretty quickly - sometimes so quickly Bucky had to wonder how he managed to get anything done. Not that their conversations really veered too far from meet-up times and locations, but every time he texted him, he usually texted back within a minute or two. Never more than five.

He hated that he knew that. 

Alpine, he could tell, even with a pillow over his face, was judging him. If she could talk, she would probably say something like, ‘Yeah, and whose fault is that?’

He reached over and turned his phone over, only to see that he didn’t have a new message. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he felt utterly ridiculous. Steve didn’t want a relationship. Even if he did respond, that didn’t necessarily mean that anything was going to happen between them -- especially after the way that St. Patrick’s Day had gone. 

He hopped up off of his bed and sat down at his desk, and tried to make his way through the notes that Nick had given him. Nick’s notes were always brutal and ruthlessly concise, but, he had to admit, (even if he occasionally hated, if not despised, his notes), they helped him create something better than his first draft.

He was halfway through revising a scene where The Soldier meets with a lawyer who is the first person in the future to treat him with any humanity--Nick had written “needs to be sadder,” which in trademark Nick fashion, was both helpful and unhelpful--when his phone buzzed on his bed.

His eyes widened, and he paused to pick it up. 

**_Steve_ **

sure sounds fun - lmk date & time & where 

Bucky furrowed his brow. What the hell did that mean?

**_Me_ **

If you can believe it, we’re celebrating easter on easter this year. :P

**_Steve_ **

Ha. just lmk

Bucky made a face. Now what did _that_ mean?

He was in the middle of deciphering Steve’s text when Alpine hopped on the keyboard and hissed at him and sent him scrambling to the kitchen. “Shit, I forgot, I’m sorry!” 

\--

As Bucky had predicted, the Barnes Easter this year was full of couples being all couple-y and shit. Janey and Veronica kept touching each other’s arms and whispering to each other, John and Becca were hiding Easter Eggs for Nathaniel and Charlotte in the backyard, and Lily and Jonathan kept finishing each other’s sentences in the kitchen to the point where Bucky couldn’t even get drunk there and not feel like he was in the middle of some YA Romance novel.

Steve was there, sure, but Steve kept looking down at his phone. At first, he’d ignored it, figuring that he must have been contacted by a client, which was definitely not out of the realm of possibility, considering the fact that Steve had already told him that he occasionally did some freelance work. Maybe a store in the mall was having an Easter Bunny mural emergency or something, he didn’t know.

But then he did it again, when they were watching Nathaniel and Charlotte search for the eggs in the backyard, and then he did it _again_ when Lily and Jonathan brought out the food to the table they’d set up outside (who the hell was texting him?!?!), and then did it a third time, when an ominous shadow appeared behind him. 

Because he apparently had no common sense, Bucky looked over his shoulder, only to see the Easter Bunny staring back at him. 

Before he could stop himself, he shrieked and pulled so hard on Steve’s sleeve that it went right into Janey’s roasted asparagus and ricotta tart. “Sorry,” he murmured, reaching over for a napkin. 

“It’s fine,” Steve smiled lightly and Bucky felt a blush creep up his neck. “It’s just some asparagus, my shirt is going to be fine.” 

“Bucky,” Winnie smiled, like Bucky hadn’t just been screaming in terror a few seconds ago, “this is Clint.”

And the real, unfortunate truth of the matter, was that when Clint took off his Easter Bunny head, he was actually kind of cute. Even wearing a giant bunny suit. And then, as he reached over to shake his hand, Clint grinned broadly and said, “I’m the Easter Bunny, and I don’t care if you’re naughty or nice.” 

Bucky made a face, his eyes drifting over to Steve, who had momentarily looked down at his phone. That was the push that he needed to smile and force himself to laugh at the joke. “That’s a good one.”

It really wasn’t, and Steve was still looking down at his phone. Failure. Bucky clenched his jaw. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” Bucky smiled, and gestured at the Easter Bunny outfit. “Is that for the kids?”

Clint snorted and said, “No, I just like to dress like this.” 

That provoked a laugh that was more genuine - this time, he noticed that Steve was paying attention. He felt a surge of confidence. “Ah, so he’s funny.” 

Clint smiled and shrugged. “I like to think so.” 

Bucky smiled back as he watched Clint put the Easter Bunny head back on, and head over to Nathaniel and Charlotte, crouching down with a basket full of candies. 

His gaze snapped back to Steve, however, when he pulled out his phone again. The annoyance and frustration that he’d been trying to push back down came bubbling back up before he could stop himself. 

“Who are you texting?” Bucky asked.

“No one,” Steve shrugged, though he was still beaming a stupid amount.

“Yeah I smile at my phone all the time when I text no one,” Bucky grumbled, which made Steve let out a sigh.

“Remember that bar that we went to on St. Patrick’s Day?”

He could remember getting extremely drunk at a bar on St. Patrick’s Day, yes.

“So?”

“I’ve gone out with the waitress from the bar a couple of times,” Steve shrugged, and maybe he was trying to be nonchalant, but there was definitely a hint of a smile breaking through that made Bucky’s stomach swoop uncomfortably. What did it matter if Steve had gone out with someone? It wasn’t like they were actually dating. 

“I’ve gone out with loads of people too,” Bucky huffed suddenly, which made Steve raise an eyebrow at him. “I have a date for Janey’s wedding, actually.”

Steve blinked at him. “You do?” 

“I do.”

He did not.

“Yeah, I’m going with Clint.”

Steve raised an eyebrow so high that for a brief moment, Bucky was almost confident that it had receded into his hairline. “You’re going with Clint?”

“Why is that so shocking?” He furrowed his brow, and now he was utterly offended on behalf of himself and Clint and their imaginary relationship. 

“No reason,” Steve said curtly, pocketing his phone. For a split second, he was pretty sure that Steve had glanced over in Clint’s direction -- that he was even glaring at him -- but that was probably just born out of a desire to make Steve jealous.

“Good.”

“Yeah. Good.”

“Great.”

“Great.” 

“Who wants pineapple cake?” Becca asked, setting down a tray as Bucky and Steve continued to glare at each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clint's terrible joke in this chapter came from here: http://easterjokes.org/easter-jokes/the-easter-bunny-pick-up-lines


	6. Janey & Veronica's Wedding

_**One missed call from Natasha Romanoff** _

_**Two missed calls from Natasha Romanoff** _

_**Three missed calls from Natasha Romanoff** _

Bucky’s phone kept buzzing menacingly, threatening to throw itself clean off of his bed every few seconds. He wasn’t trying to ignore Nat - and, for the record, he wasn’t trying to ignore anyone, although the seventeen missed calls that he had from Winnie, the four from Becca, and the three from Janey and Lily said otherwise. 

After Easter, he’d thrown himself into work, frantically going through revision after revision as the deadline for the final draft loomed. To be sure, it was still months off, but in his experience, the deadlines had a way of sneaking up on him. It had literally nothing to do with Steve or the fact that Steve was seeing someone. Literally nothing.

To prove that throwing himself into work had nothing to do with Steve, he’d even made an effort to go on a couple of dates, with an exterminator who had handed him in a business card before the date had even begun with ‘Ant Man’ emblazoned on the front and hadn’t seemed entirely pleased when Bucky had fixated on whether he was called Ant Man because he exterminated ants or because he was trying to claim that he was an ant and a muscle-y asshole named Jack that he’d kissed just so he wouldn’t have to hear him talk about how feminists were ruining the world. 

But, he’d had the same thought both times. It didn’t matter if he was trying to force himself to laugh at Scott’s jokes or make out with Jack, the effect was the same.

He couldn’t make himself forget about Steve.

It also hadn’t helped that he’d gotten red wine-drunk more than a couple of times, and fallen down an Instagram rabbit hole of epic proportions. There were a few recent pictures of Steve and the blonde waitress from the bar. “I hope he and @sharoncarter have extremely blonde babies together, I don’t care at all,” he’d grumbled, and Alpine had given him a look of immense disbelief before she’d gone back to napping on his chest.

He went through photos of them together at a restaurant and together on a hike, which had prompted him to tell Alpine, “I’m so glad that Steve has someone that likes going on hikes, because that’s the last thing that I’d want to do.” But, of course, Alpine hadn’t believed him in the slightest, and he didn’t even believe him either, because he knew, not all that deep down, that if Steve asked him to go on an early morning hike somewhere, he would be there early with a thermos of coffee ready to take in the view. 

Christ.

He went back even further, looking at gym selfies that were tagged with @falconbro, who, as Bucky poured himself another glass of red wine, was incredibly hot. Even if Steve was dating @sharoncarter, @falconbro was also very attractive and Steve would probably have no trouble wanting a relationship with him, Bucky thought bitterly. 

He continued going through photos of meals and hikes and Steve’s artwork until he had gone back 87 weeks and Alpine hissed loudly at him and he was forced to admit that he might have had a problem. 

Which is why tonight, he was doing his best to focus on work and not look at Instagram, even for a minute. 

_**Natasha**_  
Bucky pick up your fucking phone before i climb through your window  
Don’t think i won’t do it   
I’ve done it  
I’ll do it again

Bucky let out a sigh as he laid down on his bed and picked up his phone. Alpine leapt up onto the bed after him and settled onto his chest. 

_**Me**_  
The last time you did that you and bruce had just broken up what the hell is going on?

_**Natasha**_  
Steve & Sharon broke up

 _ **Me**_  
???????  
Who is Sharon?????

_**Natasha**_  
James. Please. 

_**Me**_  
I swear i have no idea who that is.

_**Natasha**_  
surejan.gif 

_**Me**_  
Okay, fine, maybe I have *some * idea of who that is  
They broke up????  
How do you know that????  
There’s no clues on instagram

 _ **Natasha**_  
It happened like 2 days ago

 _ **Me**_  
You still haven’t told me how you know this

 _ **Natasha**_  
I miiiiight have run into sharon at a work thing

Bucky tutted to himself - Nat had always been incredibly vague about what she did for a living. He was half-convinced that she was some kind of international super spy. Whenever he tried to ask her about what she did, she just told him that it was incredibly boring and he wouldn’t be interested in it.

He’d been halfway through a reply when another message came in.

 _ **Natasha**_  
She told me Steve broke it off  
Then she came home with me

_**Me**_  
Okay i didn’t need to know the second part  
I’m gay remember 

_**Natasha**_  
*sigh* you are so dramatic

_**Me**_  
Did she say why they broke up????

_**Natasha**_  
nope  
Anyway, that’s not why I texted you - I have a date for Janey’s wedding.  
It’s Steve   
I assume since you said that there was nothing going on between you two that you’re fine with it.

Bucky choked and stared down at his phone. Natasha had never, in the entire time that he’d known her, dated any of the guys that he’d dated (fuck, he was definitely thinking of Steve as someone he’d dated, kill him now). Natasha was as poised and terrifying as a jaguar, and men were usually utterly afraid of her. But, she had no problem finding dates, and she had no problem finding dates that he didn’t know.

He made a strangled noise that made Alpine hiss at him and jump off of his chest. “And I’m the one being dramatic,” he huffed at her as he stared back down at his phone and tried to think of something to say.

And it turned out that he really, really couldn’t. Because ever since he’d sat next to Natasha in Russian Lit, he’d known two things about her to be true.

She was terrifying.  
She did everything for a reason.

So there had to be a reason here too. She wouldn’t just go out with Steve when she’d seen him out with him before - when she in fact knew, and had been a party to, more than a couple of Steve-fueled, red wine-drunk nights.

It was possible that she just liked him, but that seemed ridiculously out-of-character for one Natalia Alianovna Romanovna. Or maybe Steve, like a couple of Natasha’s previous boyfriends, had had a fetish for being ordered around in bed in Russian.

He scrubbed a hand over his face and shook his head. Christ, he wasn’t going to think about them in bed together, yikes.

_**Me**_  
You trying to get me to admit I have feelings for him?

_**Natasha**_  
Ofc not, why would I do such a thing like that  
Ofc if you do have feelings for him, I will call off the date & you can ask him out to Janey’s wedding 

_**Me**_  
Nice try  
I was a complete ass to him over easter  
He was too  
I hope you have beautiful strawberry blonde babies together

Bucky threw his phone back down and buried his face in a pillow. Okay, this was fine, he thought, Steve, after they’d gotten into a fight on Easter and he’d resigned himself to the possibility that he might never see him again (of course Alpine would disagree - judging by the amount of time that he’d spent on Instagram, he had resigned himself to exactly _nothing_ ), and now Steve, of course, Steve was showing up to his little sister’s wedding.

This was good, this was fine. He was going to be at the singles table at his little sister’s wedding. The last sister to get married. He was going to be the weird cat uncle who sat by himself and drank martinis all night. It was going to be fine, nobody was even going to notice him sitting there by the time all the couples were drunk and on the dance floor.

Motherfucker.

He couldn’t do this.

He needed a date for the damn wedding.

If he was Natasha, he could just take up taekwondo and find some hot guy there willing to go with him to his sister’s wedding because he would be a redhead with measurements like Jessica Rabbit. Unfortunately, he was pretty sure he would just embarrass himself in a taekwondo studio and he had not been blessed with Natasha’s waist-to-chest ratio.

He let himself bask in self-pity for a solid minute and a half before he rolled over and checked his phone.

 _ **Mom**_  
I know it’s not my place  
But Becca told me your friend won’t be coming to the wedding  
Here’s Clint’s number

He blinked down at it - the last thing that he wanted to do was admit that he needed Winnie’s help to find a man. But the more he looked at the number, the harder it was for him to find reasons _not_ to text Clint and ask him if he’d come to the wedding with him. And wouldn’t that be the perfect revenge too? Tell Steve that Clint was his date to the wedding, and then have Clint actually come to the wedding as his date. That would teach Steve to go out with hot waitresses who were interested in him.

Before he could find a reason to talk himself out of this plan, he wrote a text to Clint.

 _ **Me**_  
hey idk if my mom already asked you lol  
but do you maybe want to come with me to Janey & Veronica’s wedding?

_**Clint**_  
Tbh i wasn’t sure if you were ever gonna text lol   
But yeah :) sounds fun

“Ha!” Bucky exclaimed. “Take that Steve!”

-

Of course, the ceremony had been beautiful, Janey and Veronica had both been beautiful, love was beautiful, blah blah blah, Steve was in a fucking suit and he couldn’t stop staring at the back of his head, even though Clint was sitting right next to him in the fucking church. He felt bad, and he also didn’t feel bad, because Steve really had the audacity to show up to his sister’s wedding when he’d known his family for approximately 0.37 seconds with his best friend in the entire world hanging off of his arm like he _didn’t_ realize that he had basically declared war.

He didn’t realize that he was glaring a hole into the back of Steve’s head until Clint put his hand on his shoulder and he almost rocketed straight out of the pew. “You okay?” Clint asked. Bucky immediately zeroed in on Steve, who was looking back in their direction, and leaned into Clint’s side.

“Yeah,” Bucky grumbled. “I’m doing great.” 

He was not.

-

He was doing even worse at the reception, because for some reason, Janey and seated him and Clint and Natasha and Steve at the exact same table, along with Lily and Jonathan and Becca and John, and in that moment, he honestly wasn’t sure if it would have been better to be at the singles table. Because at least then, he wouldn’t have to see Steve laughing and smiling and touching Natasha’s arm up close.

“I didn’t realize that you and Natasha knew each other,” Bucky said pointedly, drawing a sharp look from both Lily and Becca. 

“We met last week,” Steve said, a challenging look in his eyes.

“So you decided that the best course of action would be to invite yourself to a wedding that you weren’t invited to.”

“Bucky, stop--” Becca started. 

“I’m going to get another drink,” John announced, before he stood up. 

Jonathan looked between Steve and Bucky, before standing up too. “I’m going to join you.” 

Lily cast a glance at the dance floor, which was mostly empty, aside from a few of Veronica’s cousins who had cautiously made their way over to the edges. “You know Becca,” Lily said, tugging on Becca’s arm. “I think we should go dance.”

Becca made a face, and glared at Bucky, before she got up to follow Janey. “Okay.” ‘Okay’ in this instance, Bucky knew, was code for ‘you better not make a fucking scene at Janey’s wedding.’ 

Bucky glared back, as if to say, ‘I am making no promises,’ with his eyes, which he’d gotten quite good at doing over the years. 

“I invited him,” Natasha cut in crisply, placing a perfectly manicured hand down on the table. “So, _James_ , he was invited.” 

That was Natasha’s I’m Ending This Argument voice, but Bucky, goddamnit, was feeling distinctly petulant, so the first thing that he blurted out of his mouth was, “Why did you dump Sharon?”

Clint reached across the table, took Natasha’s hand in his, and put on a terrible British accent, “My lady, would you care to dance?” 

For a few seconds, Steve and Bucky just glared at each other. 

“It’s not your business why we broke up.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that.” Bucky rubbed the back of his head absentmindedly and let out a sigh. 

Steve’s expression softened. He opened his mouth, and for a moment, Bucky entertained the idea that Steve might tell him that he was just trying to make him jealous. But instead, what Steve said was--

“I’m sorry that I came to the wedding with Natasha without telling you.”

Bucky flushed hot immediately, and he looked away. “It’s fine, you don’t have to apologize. I’m the one who acted like an asshole.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “If I’m telling you that I was an asshole, then I was an asshole.” 

Bucky smiled a little, and then when he looked back over at Steve, his smile grew wider, because Steve was smiling back at him. 

“I’m sorry,” Bucky added, his heart thudding in his chest.

“Yeah, me too,” Steve nodded, and for a moment, Bucky could feel nothing but his heart thrumming away--he was perilously close to saying something real, when Steve said, “We should at least be friends, you know?”

Bucky took a deep breath, feeling the champagne and the tiny cheeses suddenly churning unpleasantly in his stomach. “Yeah, of course.”

“Hey Steve! Want to dance?” Natasha came over, pulling on Steve’s arm, and Steve nodded. 

“See you in a bit, Buck,” Steve grinned, and Bucky suddenly felt the urge to smack his head against the table. Maybe it was better that he hadn’t said anything - he probably would have just gotten a more in-depth speech about how they should just be friends, and then he would really have to stare down his future as the weird cat uncle. 

Clint stepped off the dance floor after Natasha and came back to the table. He looked flushed and happy, and Bucky couldn’t help but feel a little bit jealous. 

“Okay,” Clint leaned forward. “I’m going to say this once, because it feels like you need to hear it. You need to figure out whatever bullshit there is between you and Steve, okay? Because I’ve spent an entire day with you and I know literally nothing about you, because you spent the whole time staring at Steve or trying to start a fight with him.”

Bucky shrunk back. “I’m sorry, you’re right.”

Clint’s expression softened. “It’s really disappointing, you haven’t seen any of my incredible dance moves.” 

A smile spread across Bucky’s features. “You gonna show them to me?”

Clint grinned widely, and held out his arm, pulling Bucky out onto the dance floor. Laughing and smiling with Clint, (whose dance moves were incredibly, incredibly bad, and who nearly hit him in the face by accident at one point), did make him feel better. Steve, for the first time in ages, was almost completely out of his head.

Almost.


	7. Fourth of July

“Sam, if I just explain what happened again, maybe it will…”

“You’ve explained what happened three times already, and each time you tell me what happened you sound like an even bigger moron than you did five minutes ago.” 

Sam grunted and put the weight back down. “I’m starting to think I shouldn’t even be asking you to spot me anymore because you seem constantly distracted. What’s preventing you from figuring this out?” 

Sam, like always, like he had since college, was asking incredibly good and important questions. He should have just asked Bucky out from the beginning, and if Bucky had rejected him, well, then that would have been the end of it and he would have been able to move on with his life. As it was, he felt hopelessly stuck, and trying to move on (so far) hadn’t worked.

He’d broken up with Sharon, for example, after he’d stayed up too late one too many nights scrolling through Bucky’s Instagram, looking for any clues that Bucky might have a boyfriend. It hadn’t seemed fair to make her into a plot point in his own love life, if he could call it that, because lately, all he could think of was Bucky. He hadn’t been on a single proper date since he and Sharon had broken up. 

“Earth to Steve.”

It took him a moment to realize that Sam was looking up at him. In fact, he wasn’t just looking at him, his eyes were practically boring into him, as though he could tell exactly what he was thinking. “I don’t know why it’s so hard for you to figure this out,” Sam tutted to himself. “Ask him out, if he says no, then ask someone else. It’s not like you’re exactly lacking for dates, man. What about that redhead you went out with?”

Steve turned bright red at the mention of Natasha. Natasha was gorgeous, sure, but she had been extremely clear about why she was inviting him to Janey Barnes’s wedding. “That...wasn’t actually a real date. She was just trying to…” The words died in his throat, because it all seemed completely stupid now - instead of just asking Bucky out, he’d tried to make him jealous. Of course, that wasn’t the way that Natasha had put it. She’d said something far more diplomatic like ‘give him the push he needed to admit his feelings.’ 

And it hadn’t worked, not even a little bit, because Bucky had showed up with Clint, exactly like he’d said that he would, and like a complete fucking moron, he’d panicked and asked for them to be friends. 

“Ah right,” Sam hefted the weight above him before setting it back down. “I was starting to tune you out, so I forgot that again, instead of asking someone out like a normal person or avoiding the wedding of the little sister of the guy you have a crush on, you did neither of those things. I honestly don’t know why I’m surprised at this point.” 

“Would it help if I told you you’re my smartest best friend?” 

Sam scoffed. “I’m your only best friend.” But then he grinned. “Yes, yes, it does help.” 

-

Steve’s fingers hovered over his message history with Bucky later that night. He took a deep breath and decided that maybe, for once in his life, he should think about what Sam would do and do that. Sam wouldn’t hesitate here - he wouldn’t worry about crossing invisible boundaries that were probably mostly in his mind. He would just be a friend. And he’d said that - he said he wanted to be friends. 

He scrubbed a hand over his face. He was definitely thinking too hard about this. 

He took a deep breath and wrote a message before he could talk himself out of it. 

**_Me_**  
Janey’s wedding was really nice  
You must be really happy for her

He let out a shaky breath when a reply came through a couple minutes later. 

**_Bucky_**  
Yeah she & veronica are good together  
I just need veronica to stop trying to set me up with one of her cousins

He felt flagrantly, irrationally jealous at the idea of Bucky being set up with someone, and he had to remind himself that Sam wouldn’t be reading that far into a text like that. 

**_Bucky_**  
I mean don’t get me wrong they are pretty hot but  
Yeah idk

Steve blinked down at the next couple of texts. What did that mean? His mind was instantly flooded with thoughts of Bucky in bed with one of the attractive men from the wedding that he’d overheard speaking rapid Spanish. Fuck, he needed to get that image out of his head. 

**_Me_**  
They not your type?

 ** _Bucky_**  
I mean i guess it wouldn’t matter if they were or not  
I clearly have a bad track record with ppl my family tries to set me up with 

**_Me_**  
I remember the arsonist 

**_Bucky_**  
He gets out of jail in like six years or something  
I’m never going to let Lily live it down smh

Steve smiled down at his phone. 

-

Over the next few weeks, talking to Bucky got easier - it was starting to feel like it was less like he’d just said they should be friends and more like they actually were friends. He liked waking up to see that Bucky had texted him a couple of memes while he was sleeping; he liked hearing about the latest drama with his publisher; and he liked it when Bucky sent him pictures of Alpine, curled up on his stomach with captions like ‘she hasn’t moved in the last thirty minutes, i’m going to be stuck here for the rest of my life.’ 

As the days got hotter and stickier and New York City started to smell like hot garbage 24/7, Steve was beginning to debate if he should invite Bucky to his birthday. It was usually a pretty small party, one that Sam had been hosting for him since his mom had died the year after his senior year of college, and maybe it would be a bit too much for someone that he was interested in, but if he and Bucky were friends, then it wouldn’t be weird, right? 

He took a deep breath, and before he could talk himself out of it, he texted him. 

**_Me_**  
My birthday’s on the 4th and i am having a little party  
Do you want to come? 

**_Bucky_**  
Sure

The message had come through quickly, which was definitely a positive sign, but he hadn’t added anything like ‘it’s a date!’ or ‘is this a date?’ or ‘looking forward to our date!’ Steve let his head fall back on his pillow as he grumbled to himself. “Yeah, and who’s fault is that?” 

-

Sam, as usual, had tried to kick him out of the kitchen on his birthday. “I love you man, but you’re a complete control freak, and you need to take at least one day a year off and let other people take care of you.” 

Steve, however, had taken an admirable stand by dodging the beer that Sam had tried to offer him, and snatching up a serrated knife to start slicing the tomatoes for the salad. “Man, I’m just glad that Tony and Pepper are in Europe this week so they don’t have to witness you being a complete moron,” Sam grumbled, as he reached for the knife again. Steve, however, held it just out of reach. 

“Speaking of morons, are _you_ going to finally ask out Maria?” Steve asked, raising an eyebrow. Sam made a face at him and pointed accusingly. 

“I’m not going to get a lecture from someone who is being too dumb to tell a boy that they like them,” and yeah, maybe Sam had a point, but there were few things that Steve loved more in this world than lovingly antagonizing Sam at every available opportunity. 

There was a knock at the door, and Sam bounded away from him to answer it, leaving his beer behind on the kitchen counter. Steve chuckled to himself. “Hey Maria, how--”

And then he turned and saw who it was, and his jaw positively dropped.

Because it was one thing to see Bucky in tight skinny jeans and a vintage band t-shirt in a dark bar when he was pretty drunk on New Year’s Eve, (or Valentine’s Day or St. Patrick’s Day or Easter, but really, who was counting?), but seeing him show up like that on his birthday? Hair in a careful up-do? Was he wearing a little mascara or was his brain just steadily just giving up on him it was really hard to tell. 

“Shit!” Without realizing it, Steve had brought the knife down on his finger, and pierced his skin, blood mixing with tomato juice on the cutting board. “I’m fine.”

“That...doesn’t look fine,” Bucky said with wide eyes. 

“Oh it is,” Steve said, as stars started to form in his vision. 

Sam had disappeared into the bathroom and was rummaging through the cabinets. Steve was trying to find some way to hold his hand that didn’t get a lot of blood everywhere and look casual about it, while Bucky looked utterly horrified. “I think maybe you should go to the hospital.” 

When Sam returned, he wrapped as many bandages as he’d been able to find around Steve’s finger, muttering to himself under his breath. “I’m sorry we had to meet like this,” he said to Bucky, who shrugged. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Steve turned bright red and hoped to God that he would be able to blame it on the blood loss. 

“I’m fine, it’s fine Sam,” Steve muttered, “don’t want to ruin tradition.”

“Yeah, because I would really want you to stay here, bleeding uncontrollably into the salad on your birthday,” Sam deadpanned. It was about then that there was another knock at the door, and when Sam went to answer it, he paused, his eyes wide.

“Hey Maria, hey um--sorry, Steve had an accident and he needs to go to the hospital,” he rushed through, rubbing the back of his neck.

Maria furrowed her brow as she craned her neck to look over at Steve. “I can take you if you need someone to drive.”

“I can do it,” Bucky said suddenly, which made Steve keenly aware of two things: 1) he was going to have to spend time with Bucky alone, and 2) he was in the process of leaving his apartment completely unlocked to two friends who had been eyefucking each other for the past two months. 

“Just don’t fuck in my bed,” he grumbled into Sam’s ear, which prompted Sam to swat him. “Or on the couch. Or on the floor.” 

“I have more class than that Rogers, and you know that,” he said, giving him a disapproving look.

Bucky raised an eyebrow at them and reached out to pull Steve along. “C’mon Stevie, let's get you to the doctor.”

And if Steve walked after him as if he was in a bit of a daze, it was because no one had ever called him _Stevie_ before, and hearing a pet name from Bucky made him feel like something had come loose in his chest. 

-

By the time they made it to the emergency room and were actually being seen by a doctor, Steve was beginning to feel more than a little woozy. Maybe it was the blood loss. Maybe it was the pain medication. 

Or maybe it was the fact that Bucky had positioned himself on the bed next to him, practically wrapped around him. His finger might have been hanging on for dear life, but that almost didn’t matter. He felt pretty warm and happy. 

Shit, maybe that was the drugs. 

“Okay, stop me if you’ve heard this one--” Bucky’d started when Clint appeared, clipboard in hand. 

“Bucky!”

“Hey!” Bucky smiled at Clint, who was smiling back, and then looked at Steve, who was progressively turning greener which didn’t entirely have to do with reasons related to blood loss. 

“What happened?” 

“I cut my finger with a serrated knife,” Steve said, suddenly feeling incredibly alert and sober. “I don’t think it’s too bad.” 

“Can I see?” Clint asked, and Steve nodded. Once he’d begun to unwrap Sam’s handiwork, he tutted to himself. 

“Yeah, let’s clean that. It might need a couple of stitches. No big deal,” and Steve, honestly, was feeling the urge to take his chances out in the wild if it meant that he didn’t have to run into someone who Bucky had, at one point, claimed to be dating. 

Or was dating.

Honestly, he hadn’t asked, and now he was kicking himself for being so stupid. 

The only thing stopping him from bolting in that moment was the fact that Bucky had reached out to hold his other hand while Clint cleaned the wound and started suturing it. 

“I wasn’t expecting to see you,” Clint said as he worked, examining the wound.

“Me neither,” Bucky shrugged. “It’s really too bad. We should get coffee or something. Properly catch up and everything.” 

Steve looked between Bucky, who was still smiling at Clint, and Clint, who was smiling back, and instantly felt his heart sink. “I’m going to go put those discharge papers in,” Clint said, and headed away from the bed. 

Bucky was still curled around him, which was a positive sign, but the question about what was going on between the two of them was beginning to eat at him. 

_What would Sam do?_

“Are you two…” he started, and Bucky wriggled around so that he could look him in the eye. 

“No.” Bucky shook his head. “He...uh...he’s a friend. Plus, I’m pretty sure there’s something going on between him and Natasha. She’s been keeping all the details to herself, though, so she must really like him. Otherwise she would have told me everything.” 

“That’s um...good.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow at him, but he didn’t say anything else about Clint. “How’s your finger?” 

“Still hanging on, I think,” Steve shrugged, and yeah, maybe he did have an incredible headache and maybe he was a little nauseous from seeing that amount of blood come out of his hand, but...scratch that. Now wasn’t the right time to start blurting out how he felt, if only because Bucky was bound to dismiss it because of how green he’d looked for the past hour and a half. 

“All set,” Clint said as he came back with another clipboard. “You just have to sign a couple of forms, and then you can be on your way.”

“I’ll take you home,” Bucky nodded. “Then you can get some rest.” 

-

The whole drive home, Steve was leaning against the window, trying to force his heart to stop beating so rapidly in his chest. He couldn’t help but feel like they were on the cusp of something. It made him feel like he’d swallowed bees because he was so full of anticipation, but at the same time, it made him feel like he was possibly on the cusp of making the biggest mistake of his life. 

When Bucky reached his apartment, he parked his car, and said, “Okay, you’re in 405, right? I’ll go up with you. If Sam and Maria are still there I can tell them to fuck off.” 

Bucky was smiling at him, but Steve was feeling like his stomach was churning. He took a deep breath and nodded. 

Bucky reached out and looped an arm around his, and Steve could feel a flush working its way up his neck. He wasn’t sure whether it would be better to blame it on pain medication from the hospital or to explain that all of this touching was really starting to get to him without making it seem like he didn’t want this touching to be happening (which was also a major problem of his, as it turned out). 

“You know, I didn’t injure my legs, I can walk perfectly fine,” was probably not the right thing to say in the end. Bucky raised an eyebrow at him and snickered. 

Oh.

“For the record,” Bucky said as they got to the door. “This was not the worst party I’ve ever been to.” 

And standing there, with Bucky smiling in front of him, it felt like the right time. Steve leaned forward and cautiously brushed his lips against Bucky’s. 

When he drew away, Bucky didn’t look unhappy, but he definitely looked somewhere between amused and confused. “Have a good night, Stevie.” 

Steve nodded, biting his lip, before he promptly went inside, flopped down on his bed, and screamed as loud as he could into a pillow.


	8. Halloween

**_Me_**  
He sliced off part of his finger  
I took him to the hospital  
Then i took him home  
Then he kissed me  
That’s all that happened

 ** _Becca_**  
Okay, so why haven’t you called him? Texted him?

 ** _Me_**  
He was doped to hell on painkillers, he probably doesn’t even remember  
Beck do i have to remind you that he literally said “let’s be friends” at Janey’s wedding  
LETS BE FRIENDS

 ** _Becca_**  
So? Even if he doesn’t remember what happened, he might want to know that he did that 

**_Me_**  
Gee, great plan, why don’t i just tell him i’ve been nursing the biggest crush on him since i met him outside of j.crew like a weirdo

 ** _Becca_**  
??????  
Why don’t you?????

 ** _Me_**  
It’s complicated

 ** _Becca_**  
It’s really not 

**_Me_**  
You got married at 22 you can’t tell me what’s complicated & what’s not complicated

**_Becca_**  
That doesn’t have anything to do with anything?

 ** _Me_**  
Yes it does.  
Now stop texting me so i can get work done

 ** _Becca_**  
fine  
Have fun idiot 

Of course, Bucky didn’t get any work done. Nick wanted him to work on the ending of _Summer Soldier_ where The Soldier discovered that his childhood friend was still alive (and not only that he was still alive, but that he was the hero known as Captain America), but he couldn’t concentrate on it. He certainly couldn’t concentrate enough to create anything that had more emotional resonance than a potted plant. 

It wasn’t like they hadn’t talked since it had happened, but Steve hadn’t mentioned it and he hadn’t mentioned it, and he couldn’t escape the feeling that their conversations had been stilted and awkward--as though they were both trying to dance around something neither of them wanted to talk about. 

He grumbled to himself and decided that Becca was probably right, he needed to address what had happened with Steve so they could move past it. 

**_Me_**  
Hey it’s not a big deal or anything  
But when i took you back home from the hospital you kissed me  
You were really doped up so that’s all that happened  
But i figure you would want to know 

His heart was thrumming wildly in his chest as he put his phone face down on his desk. “Okay, no big deal,” he muttered to himself. Alpine, from her position on his bed, meowed loudly, and he knew exactly what she would be saying if she could talk _Bucky, the fact that you’ve been thinking about it for months means it was kind of a big deal._

 ** _Steve_**  
Yeah

“I wish you could talk so you could tell me what this meant,” Bucky grumbled again, waving his phone in front of Alpine. Alpine just shifted slightly on the bed and went back to sleep. 

**_Me_**  
Okay well i’m glad i told you at least

Bucky let out a sigh and rested his head against his desk. 

**_Me_**  
Veronica’s having a halloween party  
You want to come? 

**_Steve_**  
Sure

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky muttered to himself, before he resolved to ignore his phone and try and get some work done. He wasn’t going to let himself spend hours deliberating over the meaning of Steve’s texts.

Again.

-

 ** _Steve_**  
Okay so  
I need to tell you something  
I already got my halloween costume like...months ago  
[ONE IMAGE ATTACHED]

Bucky almost dropped his phone when he saw a Captain America costume staring back at him. 

**_Steve_**  
I can pick something else if you think it’s too weird for me to go as one of your characters

 ** _Me_**  
No you don’t have to pick something else  
I think it’s great

Bucky had turned bright red, and was trying to get his heart under control. 

**_Me_**  
I’m just glad you didn’t say you were going as James Bond too  
Otherwise one of us would have to change  
And by one of us, i mean you

**_Steve_**  
Lol   
Like that costume isn’t just an excuse for you to drink martinis all night

 ** _Me_**  
Excuse you :P

 ** _Steve_**  
:angel:

-

Veronica’s Halloween party was taking place in a reserved room at a bar near his apartment. He didn’t want to think about how much it had cost to reserve the place on Halloween in New York City, of all places (then again Veronica worked on Wall Street). Instead, he’d gotten there early and started knocking back martinis at the bar in the back room, feeling a bit warmer and lighter at the prospect of seeing Steve than he had in a long time. 

“You gonna tell him how you feel?” Natasha had asked, coming out of nowhere in a catsuit that was frankly bordering on obscene, with Clint’s arm slung around her shoulders. 

“Please, I invited him here as a friend,” Bucky said stiffly, turning a bit red at the memory of the kiss. He hoped that Natasha (or Clint, for that matter), wouldn’t be able to notice, given that the bar itself was rather dimly lit, but Bucky had never had that kind of luck.

This time, it was Clint who rolled his eyes. “I gave you some really good advice at Janey’s wedding,” he pointed out with a knowing look, and the last thing that he needed was the two of them ganging up on him, he thought with a sigh.

Bucky took a deep breath and resolved to tell Steve the way he felt the moment that he saw him, which...was a bad idea, given that the moment that he’d promised himself that, he saw Steve walk through the door.

“I’ll go tell him where we are,” he hopped off of the stool, making his way through the crowd in the main part of the bar, before he nearly ran right smack into Brock and Dottie, dressed as a devil and an angel, respectively. 

“Bucky, what a nice surprise!” Brock said happily, which made Bucky raise an eyebrow, because he had to wonder out of all the bars in New York City, Brock had managed to end up at this one with his fiancee. If Veronica and Brock worked together, he was going to throw hands, he huffed to himself. Sister’s wife be damned, if this was anything more than a terrible, horrible coincidence.

“Yeah sure,” Bucky grumbled to himself, before his gaze fell on Dottie, who was heavily pregnant. 

Bucky’s eyes went wide. “You’re pregnant.” This seemed completely unbelievable, until it dawned on him that the last time that he’d seen Brock and Dottie, it had been the day before Valentine’s Day, and they’d definitely, definitely been together before then too. That was enough time to have a baby.

A baby.

Bucky almost choked.

“Yeah,” Dottie reached out to rub her belly. “It happened so quickly, but we’re so excited about getting the opportunity to start a family.” 

Brock was smiling at her, like an asshole who hadn’t once told him that he didn’t believe in marriage and that he wasn’t the least bit interested in them having kids. 

He definitely wasn’t the least bit bitter about that anymore. Definitely not. 

“Well, it was nice to see both of you,” Bucky said through clenched teeth. He was beginning to feel like he was practically crawling out of his skin at the sight of the two of them, but he could lie a moment longer, if only to make his escape. “But I forgot that I have a prior engagement and that I have to leave immediately.” 

It was the most measured and calm that he could have been, given the situation. His sisters might not have appreciated him leaving the party without saying goodbye, but Becca would probably understand. Natasha would also probably understand. If Brock was in the building, then he needed to leave as soon as possible. 

It was only a couple of blocks between the bar that Veronica had chosen for the party and his apartment, and he had no problem making it the entire way. 

It was such a stupid thing to care about, especially since Brock was about the last person on the planet that he wanted to spend his life with, but he couldn’t stop himself from caring. He couldn’t help the creeping feeling inside his chest that told him that he was going to be alone for the rest of his life. 

“Bucky! Bucky wait!”

Steve was practically jogging after him, though Steve was so tall that it was more like a high-spirited, fast-paced, New York walk than true jogging. “I’m fine Steve, I just want to be alone, okay? I just want to be alone.” 

Jesus Christ, he thought to himself as he rounded a corner and came to his apartment building. 

He was practically shaking as he tried to fish his keys out of his pocket. Stupid costume. Stupid Halloween. Stupid bar letting in just anyone on Halloween, the most sacred of all days.

Okay, he thought, wrinkling his nose, maybe he was being just the slightest touch dramatic. 

“It’s such a stupid thing to care about!” Bucky blurted out, as Steve wrapped his arms around him. Jesus Christ that was nice. “I don’t have feelings for Brock anymore, I swear to God, he’s one of the grossest people on the entire fucking planet, but I still care! Why do I still care?”

Steve pulled him in even closer, and lying against Steve’s chest, even if Steve was wearing a ridiculous, over-the-top, colorful Captain America costume, made him feel very calm. 

“It’s okay to be upset,” Steve said gently, running his hands through his hair, and _Jesus_ that was nice. He leaned into his touch. “You don’t need a reason to feel upset.” 

Bucky surged up without thinking about it, and pressed his lips against Steve’s as hard as he could, as though he was trying to crawl inside him. 

Steve was warm, even in the bitter Halloween cold, and he didn’t let go when Bucky kissed him, instead, deepening the kiss until they were gasping into each other’s mouths. 

“Let’s go upstairs,” Bucky said suddenly, and Steve nodded. 

“Yeah, um...that’s a good idea.” 

He led Steve upstairs. When they reached his apartment on the second floor, he tried to remain calm as he unlocked the front door, but that was easier said than done, especially since Steve was so close, practically caging him in, fingers occasionally reaching out to brush against the back of his neck--his shoulders--really anything that Steve could reach--and sent shivers up his spine. 

When the door unclicked and he was able to get it open, Steve was on him in an instant, kissing him hard and deep, hands wandering down to squeeze his ass and pull him closer. Steve kissed him like he wanted to inhale him, like he never wanted to spend another moment without him. 

Steve, in the entire time that Bucky had known him, had been shaped like a superhero, so it shouldn’t have been surprising when Steve lifted him up, but he did it so easily that it knocked all the air out of his lungs. 

He rucked Bucky’s shirt up, and Bucky wrapped his legs around his waist. “Bedroom is on the left,” he murmured, and instead of putting him down, Steve carried him _the whole way there_. Sure, there was probably only about ten, maybe fifteen feet between the entrance of his apartment, but he was still pretty impressed.

Steve laid him down on his bed, and started kissing him everywhere, peeling off his suit jacket and practically ripping down his pants, as though he was in a hurry, as though he had completely forgotten about himself, because he was still wearing his costume.

“Hey,” Bucky breathed against his lips. “You gonna take that off or what?”

“Oh,” Steve said, blinking, as he got off of the bed and started to strip off his costume. “Sorry, I uh...I barely remembered I was still wearing it.”

Bucky snorted. “You’re such a fucking dork.”

Steve shrugged, a small smile blooming across his features. “Guilty.”

Steve kneeled back on the bed, and Bucky pulled him over. “Don’t mind you being a dork just as long as you come over here and fuck me.” 

“Smooth,” Steve snorted.

“Can you blame me?” Bucky huffed, although he was grinning. “I’m getting impatient.”

Steve ran his hands along his chest, along his thighs, before scooted down the bed and wrapped his lips around the head of his cock.

“Oh my God,” Bucky moaned--he couldn’t look directly at Steve (who was looking directly at him, with those big, stupid blue eyes of his), especially not when he was running his tongue along his shaft and reaching over to stroke him gently. “I can’t--I can’t--you have to get me ready, please.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, as he felt Steve’s hands run along his skin, drifting lower as they squeezed his ass and lifted him off the bed. This time, it was the casual display of strength--and the fact that Steve was enthusiastically tonguing his ass--that made him moan. “You are such a fucking tease, I can’t stand you.”

Steve pulled off, grinning wickedly as he rubbed a finger against his hole. “You have lube and condoms, right?”

“Of course,” Bucky huffed, biting back a groan when Steve pressed his finger shallowly inside him. “What do you take me for? It’s in the nightstand.”

Steve just grinned even broader as he reached over to rifle through the nightstand. When he ripped open a condom, Bucky found himself wriggling in Steve’s grasp. “C’mon, fuck me, Stevie,” he whispered, which must have been the right thing to say, because Steve had surged forward to kiss him deeply, licking into his mouth for a second, before he leaned back to roll the condom onto his cock. 

When Steve pushed inside him, he felt his entire body tense up. He couldn’t believe this was actually happening, but Steve, for his part, didn’t seem to realize that was why his muscles had suddenly tensed up. 

Instead, Steve leaned in to kiss him again, hands roaming everywhere. “C’mon Buck,” he whispered in his ear. “C’mon, you need to relax, c’mon, let me in.” 

His cock, which was already hard and nearly purple at the head, twitched between them. “Touch me, Steve,” he murmured back, and Steve’s hand was sliding between them, stroking Bucky’s cock in time with his thrusts.

He didn’t last long. He’d never lasted long when he was in bed with a crush for the first time, and when he came, he pressed a hard kiss against Steve’s neck, fingers raking down his back, before Steve came too, groaning loudly in his ear.

It was the best thing that Bucky had heard in a long, long time.

But when Steve was lying on top of him, playing with his hair, Bucky felt an uncomfortable twist in his stomach. This was never supposed to happen, he thought as Steve kissed his brow and closed his eyes, wrapping him in his arms.

It wasn’t supposed to happen.


	9. Thanksgiving

Bucky had resolved not to invite Steve to Thanksgiving. Inviting Steve to holidays had gotten way too confusing, and after Halloween, he couldn’t pretend that he wanted to just be platonic holidates with him. This had gone way too far. So, he had stopped responding to Steve’s messages and resigned himself to a Steve-less existence for the rest of his life. 

Of course, when the doorbell rang on Thanksgiving, and Steve was standing there, wearing a stupid polo like he was on his way to a fucking yacht club, Bucky’s jaw dropped. 

“Natasha invited me, uh...I can go if this is too weird,” Steve shrugged, absentmindedly rubbing a hand against his neck. “For the record, I did ask, but...you haven’t been responding to any of my texts lately.” 

“Oh, uh, yeah, it’s fine,” Bucky murmured, turning around to head back to the kitchen as quickly as his legs could carry him.

Except, he didn’t get very far, because Steve put his hand on his shoulder and stopped him.

“Are we not going to talk about what happened on Halloween?”

Bucky took a deep breath. “What’s there to talk about?”

And for the first time, in the entire time that he’d known Steve, he narrowed his eyes and he glared at him - and this wasn’t like Easter, either, this was full, barely contained anger. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” 

Bucky blinked at him, before he narrowed his eyes and glared right back at him. “What’s my problem? What’s your problem? You’re the one who told me that you wanted to be friends and then fucked me on Halloween. That’s not what people do with their friends, Steve!”

“I mean, some friends might,” Natasha piped up, and Bucky couldn’t even bring himself to pay attention to her, because Steve was right in front of, glaring at him so intently that it was a wonder that he hadn’t just burst into flames.

“You could have said something!” Steve shot back. “Instead of pretending like it wasn’t a big deal or making those weird faces after we came.”

“Little ears!” Becca piped up, shepherding Nathaniel and Charlotte away from the door. 

Steve gave Bucky a hard look, and shook his head. “You know what, coming here was a mistake. I can’t do this anymore. I have a consult at the mall I can go and do instead. Have a nice life.” 

Steve slammed the door behind him, and Bucky immediately slumped against it, as though he’d been pulled by a string. 

“Okay, so that went extremely well,” Becca murmured, shaking her head. 

“I’m an idiot,” Bucky said, scrubbing his face.

“Really, you just figured that out now,” Becca deadpanned, and when he went to glare at her, he found that Natasha and Clint were both shrugging and smiling sheepishly like they didn’t want to say out loud that Becca was right. 

“You were the one who told me about holidates,” Bucky said accusingly, pointing at Natasha, who just shrugged again.

“Yeah, but I didn’t tell you to be a complete moron and ignore your feelings when you had them,” Natasha pointed out, and Bucky honestly didn’t have a response for that one. Since she’d met Clint properly and the two of them had hit it off, it wasn’t like she had tried to ignore her feelings, (well, as far as Bucky could tell - to some extent Natasha was always going to be a mystery to him and he figured that he was just going to have to accept that). 

“Bucky, I’m driving,” Becca said, as she retrieved her car keys from the bowl by Winnie’s front door. “I’m not letting this go on any longer, this has gotten completely ridiculous.” 

“That’s what I’ve been telling him,” Natasha said, which prompted Bucky to glare off in her direction. She shrugged. “It’s the truth James, and you know it.” 

Bucky made a face. “I really hate it when the two of you decide to team up.”

Winnie, who had been in the kitchen up until this moment, emerged, wiping her hands off on her apron. “You go apologize to that boy, right now,” which made Bucky let out a groan, and briefly consider not going to the mall and attempting to win Steve back to spite his mother.

But only briefly, because he’d lived a Steve-less existence for the past twenty-nine years, and it hadn’t exactly been all champagne and roses.

“We’ll hold down the fort,” Clint announced, and Natasha nodded. 

“Okay,” Becca nodded back, and Bucky made a face. 

“You do realize they’re probably going to hook up in the guest bedroom while mom watches Nathaniel and Charlotte,” Bucky murmured, and Becca shrugged. 

“You have more important things to worry about mister, come on,” Becca pulled him through the front door. 

-

“Shit,” Bucky murmured - the mall was closing early and the crowds had thinned out since it was Thanksgiving, but it was still a huge building, and he didn’t have any idea where Steve would be. “Is it too late to go home?”

Becca shook her head and shoved him forward. “You have to do this. I’m starting to think that you secretly like dating people like Brock and being set up with people like Garrett so you’ll have some kind of out when it doesn’t work out.” 

Bucky made a face. “Yeah sure, I’m real into dating assholes. I really love doing that.” 

“You want to prove me wrong?” Becca raised an eyebrow. “Then you’re going to find Steve, and you’re going to tell him how you feel, and you’re going to figure this thing out once and for all, because frankly, I am sick of hearing about. Move the fuck on, brother, or date a hot blond. Either way, your life is going to be a lot better when you just suck it up and talk to him like a big boy.” 

“Okay I don’t want to hear you say ‘like a big boy’ ever again in my entire life,” Bucky huffed. “But I have no idea where Steve is, we could be here all day looking for him, and wouldn’t that make mom incredibly upset…”

And of course, there was Steve, standing a few feet away with a shop owner, gesturing wildly at the window. Becca shoved him forward. “Come on, it’s time.”

Bucky grumbled to himself as he walked forward. “For the record, if this goes badly, you’re going to need to buy me the entire Godiva store to make this up to me.” 

Becca shrugged. “If.” 

Bucky dragged his feet forward, hoping that he would be able to think of something grand and important to say before he reached Steve. When he didn’t, and he was inches away from him, he resigned himself to the fact that he was about to get humiliated in the mall in front of a Banana Republic, which if he was being perfectly honest, was always how he pictured being humiliated by the gorgeous love of his life.

“Hey,” Bucky said, smiling weakly. Steve didn’t look thrilled to see him, but he didn’t look upset or completely angry either, so Bucky was counting that as a win. 

“Will you excuse us a moment?” Steve said to the man who was standing next to him, who nodded, and then receded into the shop. 

“If you’re here to ask me to come back to the party, I’m afraid I’ve already made up my mind,” Steve said sharply, hugging the clipboard tightly to his chest. “I’m tired of pretending that I don’t want this.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow and then shook his head. “Just hear me out okay? I’ve wanted a relationship - I’ve wanted something with you since I met you, practically, and it’s been killing me to pretend like I didn’t care. But I did, because you never signed up to have a relationship with me, and I wanted to be respectful of your boundaries.”

“I am over Brock, for the record, and I guess on Halloween I just got upset because….because I’ve been dancing around you for the entire year, trying to pretend like I didn’t care, when Steve, I care so, so, so fucking much. For the record, I was going to say something at Janey’s wedding, but then you wanted to be friends, and I thought it would be unfair to lay all of this on you, and I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I’ve been so dumb, and if it’s too late or whatever, then that’s fine, but I’m glad that I told you, at least.” 

He did feel quite a bit lighter, even if he didn’t necessarily feel happier when Steve staring at him so intently, betraying nothing about how he felt. 

“Bucky,” Steve said, and here it was, he was about to get rejected and put this stupid holidate business completely to bed. 

But then Steve said--

“I’m also an idiot, and Sam’s been telling me for months that I should just ask you out.” It wasn’t the sweeping and romantic grand gesture that Bucky might have imagined after watching way too much Lifetime Christmas movies, but it was about the same thing, because Steve pulled him close and planted a kiss on his lips, and Bucky could feel something welling up inside him, something telling him that everything was finally right in the world.

Finally.


	10. Christmas - Epilogue

All things considered, things were going pretty well for Bucky. He had a new boyfriend, (who was a fucking Adonis if he said so himself, and he did, frequently), _The Summer Soldier_ had just been published and was on its way to making it onto The New York Times’ bestseller list, and Brock and Dottie had already gotten divorced. Life was good. 

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Bucky asked, squeezing Steve’s hand gently as they stepped onto Winnie’s porch. “My sisters can be pretty overwhelming, and I’m pretty sure that Natasha is actually a spy, so she might literally interrogate you before we get to the Christmas ham.”

Steve let out a laugh, and squeezed Bucky’s hand back. “Look, I’m here with you, right? I can handle anything that they dish out.” 

“What if Nathaniel and Charlotte ask you about Santa Claus?”

Steve put a hand to his chest and gasped, faux-scandalized. “Bucky, are you suggesting that I would spoil the most magical of all holidays for your niece and nephew?”

Bucky rolled his eyes, and Steve leaned in to press a kiss against Bucky’s cheek. “I’m just saying, they can be very convincing when they put their minds to it.” 

“I think I’ll survive,” Steve grinned, and tilted Bucky’s head up so that he could kiss him full on the mouth. 

In fact, they were still kissing when Becca opened the door. “Glad to see that you quit smoking,” she said to Bucky, before he turned bright red and realized that his sister was watching him PG-13 kiss his boyfriend. “Come inside before the two of you catch a cold. Or decide to go home. You know, mom will be really disappointed if you ditch Christmas.” 

Steve snorted and raised his eyebrows suggestively, which made Bucky swat him. “C’mon Stevie,” he said, stealing another kiss as he pulled him inside. 

As it turned out, Brock dumping him was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! <333 Happy Holidays!


End file.
